


Tobirama's Very Bad Idea

by kangstellation



Series: fake dating + modern!AU [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Fake Dating, M/M, as in modern setting, cussing is involved in this, everyone except tobirama and madara are only mentioned in passing, idk if they qualify as enemies to make this enemies to lovers, modern!AU, my father hates your father lets date and piss them off, specifically the f-word, this is only the beginning btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 23:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17796797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangstellation/pseuds/kangstellation
Summary: In which Tobirama has an exceedingly Bad Idea and everything is, in a way, Hashirama's fault.





	Tobirama's Very Bad Idea

**Author's Note:**

> Gentle reminder that if you have no expectations then you won't be disappointed ;) With that being said, I do hope you find some sort of enjoyment in reading this little chunk of trash :D

As usual, the whole issue could be chalked up to as Hashirama’s fault.

Madara had shown up to Hashirama’s apartment exactly on time to work on their group project. When Hashirama hadn’t opened the door after a few incessant knocks, Madara had proceeded to let himself in with the spare key Hashirama kept poorly hidden under the succulent pot, closing the door after him.

That part was fine, because Hashirama had a tendency to run late, no matter how many times Madara had scolded him for it and threatened to shave him bald if he was late again (this probably had something to do with Madara never actually carrying out said threat), so it wasn’t much of a surprise that he was late again. What was a surprise, though, was Hashirama’s younger brother, who was sitting cross-legged on the coffee table, reading a thick book.

Madara blinked once. Twice. When Tobirama didn’t fade away as a hallucination, Madara decided to clear his throat. “Er, what are you doing here?” It was a miracle he didn’t stutter, caught off guard as much as he had been.

Tobirama ignored him for a full two minutes. Then, as if sensing Madara wouldn’t let this go unless he answered, “I am reading.”

Madara’s left eye twitched. He drew in deep breaths slowly, repeating the inhale-hold-exhale pattern his anger management classes had taught him. Then, he turned away from Tobirama and headed to the dining table, where he put down his bag and took out his laptop.

He got as far as opening up the presentation slides he was supposed to be working on along with the bookmarked tabs of information he would use, and then stopped his train of productivity to go make some tea. He rifled around in Hashirama’s tea cabinet until he found his preferred type of tea — sencha — then filled the kettle and set it to boil and brought out Hashirama’s tea set.

Because Madara had been raised with manners, he asked gruffly, “Want tea?”

“Sure.” Tobirama was still sitting on the coffee table. Madara was almost 100% sure that that was _not_ a comfortable position to be sitting and reading in, especially not with a book _that_ thick. Then again, maybe it was just a Tobirama thing, just like how pouting and sulking like a 5-year-old child when he didn’t get his way was Hashirama’s.

 _Senjus and their weird-ass quirks_ , Madara thought sagely to himself as he took out three teacups and kept the rest. It didn’t matter that he had only met Itama and Kawarama once, at a very awkward family dinner Hashirama had dragged him to—he was sure they, too, had some sort of bizarre trait.

Although, at least the Senju brothers could appreciate a good cup of tea. All Izuna drank now was _milk_ tea, some sort of horrendous rendition of tea except it tasted _nothing_ like it and more like diabetic milk.

While waiting for the kettle to boil, Madara decided to send Hashirama a text asking where the fuck he was. Then, for good measure, he spammed a horde of angry emojis. He would have sent a few more hordes but the kettle had finished boiling. Sighing, Madara set aside his phone and started preparing the tea.

When he was done, he used a tray to carry all three teacups to the dining table and set it next to his laptop. “Come get your tea, Senju,” he called out, because there was no way in Hell that Madara would personally bring Tobirama his tea.

It was almost amusing to see the white-haired Senju shuffle over obediently, though his nose was still practically buried in the book. He sat with an empty chair between him and Madara and tugged a teacup over to himself. Satisfied, Madara sat back down in front of his laptop, which had gone to sleep, and absent-mindedly tapped a key to bring it back to life while his other hand reached for a teacup of his own.

His presentation slides were staring back at him again. They were basically mocking him, taunting him with their empty spaces and lack of sufficient information. Madara sipped his tea, said a prayer for good measure, and clicked to one of the other tabs to start gathering information.

A silence settled over them, broken only by Madara’s typing and Tobirama’s occasional page flip.

Tobirama was the one to break the silence, though he did so without even looking up from his book. “Our fathers hate each other.”

Madara looked up from his laptop screen to shoot him an incredulous look. Was this Tobirama’s way of trying to make small talk? He prayed it wasn’t — he really needed to get those slides done. Still, he couldn’t resist a little bit of snark back no matter how much he bit his tongue. “Why yes indeed, they do. What an astute observation, Senju. What could have possibly given that away? Surely, it cannot be the murderous glares they shoot each other every time they are so much as in the same room?”

“Shut up, Uchiha. Your sarcasm is unneeded.” Tobirama flipped another page, not even looking the slightest least bothered by Madara’s snide response.

Madara’s left eye twitched again. “Then don’t go around stating obvious things!” In an attempt to calm himself back down, he brought his cup of tea to his lips again.

For a moment (a very blissful one), Tobirama didn’t say anything — no counter, no snide remark, nothing. It was almost foreboding to the next words that came out of Tobirama’s mouth.

“Let’s date.”

Another moment of silence, quickly followed by—

“What the _fuck_?” Madara sounded absolutely bewildered with a trace of the usual irritation he had when he didn’t immediately understand something.

“Let’s date, Uchiha.” At least Tobirama had the gall to look up from his book and meet Madara’s eyes _this_ time.

“No, I heard you the first time. Just trying to wrap my mind around it.” Madara took a deep breath, counted to three, and exhaled. “What the fuck?”

“Our fathers hate each other.” The way Tobirama said it, slowly, as if explaining rocket science to a child, made the all-too-familiar feeling of wanting to strangle him rise up in Madara’s gut. Unfortunately, he managed to restrain himself from doing so by picturing Hashirama’s doubtlessly heartbroken wailing at the news of his younger brother’s death. As good as it would feel to choke the living daylights out of the white-haired Senju, the thought of Hashirama falling into a depression that wasn’t faked was enough to deter Madara.

So, with the patience of a man who regularly meditated, Madara gritted his teeth and tried _(tried_ ) to not growl out, “Yes, I heard that too the first time. What I’m trying to understand is how that leads to us _dating_.”

“Well, I fully intend to piss my father off, and I’m of the notion that you would love to do the same to yours. Know what will be sure to make them piss themselves in anger?” Tobirama looked to Madara inquiringly and Madara raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Us, dating. So I say, we pretend to date, show nauseating affection to each other in public, get a few laughs out of our families’ reactions, then fake break up. What do you think?”

That was probably the most amount of words Tobirama had ever spoken to Madara in one go — usually, Hashirama’s younger brother avoided him like he was the plague (that was probably wise of him, seeing how they always ended up snapping at each other). Madara silently gauged the white-haired Senju for a while, wondering if this was a trick of some sort. Tobirama held his gaze steadily, not wavering for a second.

“Eh. Why not?” Madara shrugged. “Let’s talk terms.”

Tobirama smiled at him.

(It was a really pretty smile, and also the first time Madara had ever had it directed at him. Needless to say, he was a bit distracted for the discussion.)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on a night where I just wanted some kind of productivity so I only wrote dialogue. Hence, if the story flow is choppy or weird, that's why. This also means that this lil bit here is all I got for this AU so far and I'm still debating if I should continue it or nah (knowing my track record, it's probably a nah).
> 
> You can find me on tumblr as kangstellation! 
> 
> Leave any thoughts you may have about this below x) thanks for reading!


End file.
